Five Ways We've Died
by Baroness Kika
Summary: Modern/Historic AU: Some fears are simply ingrained within us so completely and are come by so honestly that try as we may, we can never quite shake them. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark know this all too well. Cover by Ro Nordmann.


**-For m_eggiemellark_, who insisted that this might actually be a decent story. ILY, Sister.-**

**(Possible trigger warnings: descriptions of past-life deaths in some graphic detail.)**

* * *

_It was a positively sweaty day. As he blindly followed the girl with the long, black braid __who was __just a few paces ahead of him through the marshes, he wiped what felt like buckets of perspiration off on the hem of his blue collared shirt. He was not sure how on earth she was getting by with her woolen dress __that_ _hung all the way down to her calves. Every so often, she lifted it to her knees and swung it to and fro, probably trying to get a bit of air to cool off the pearls of sweat that pebbled behind her knees and dripped down her legs. He blushed every time she did_ _this __and pretended he didn't see. It would have been terribly inappropriate for him to ogle, and it would be a sure-fire way to __receive __an ear boxing from Mother._

"_C'mon, __just a bit farther! I saw the nest over this way…lots of eggs. They'll make a tasty supper, I'll bet," the girl said, the Creole accent thick in her voice. Mother didn't like it when he spent time with her—called her all sorts of filthy words he wouldn't dare repeat—but he thought she was real pretty. And even though she spoke with a Creole tongue, she was only half; her skin was the prettiest tone he had ever seen, and her eyes were greyer than a stormy day. If only she knew how pretty she was._

"_I bet the mama bird won't take too kindly to us thieving her eggs," he said cautiously. He couldn't help how tender-hearted he was._

_The girl said something in her mother tongue that he couldn't translate__, and she_ _punctuated it with a laugh. "She can hatch more. Ain't you hungry?"_

"_Yeah, I am."_

_That ended the argument._

_He wasn't paying attention to his footfalls, no matter how often she reminded him to do just that. She'd hiked up her skirt again, and the sweat dripping down her spindly legs_ _trailed_ _a path along her skin which fascinated him. Even when she was sweating, she was pretty. He wondered how that was_ _possible, when suddenly_ _he felt __an __intense, gut-wrenching pain__. __He looked down at the exact right time to see the reptile's fangs as they sunk fully into his leg, __and he __swallowed a moan of agony just as he collapsed into a heap._

_He wondered how she'd avoided treading into the snake's nest as his vision got blurry, and she raced to his side. He could feel the venom course through his blood, but his tongue was so thick and heavy in his mouth that he couldn't communicate it to her when she shouted his name. __Even though he could feel himself dying, __he wanted to tell her how pretty she was, how he didn't believe a word his mother said about her and her family, and how much he'd always wanted to kiss her. Instead, all he could do is gurgle and writhe_ _in pain._

_The girl tried to suck the poison from the wound, but it was useless. The boy was gone just a few minutes later._

* * *

"You sure you don't want to go to the New Year's party tonight?" Katniss asks as she ties the orange bandana around her braided hair and fits her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose.

Peeta rubs a bit of sunscreen on his arms and shakes his head. "It's all gonna be the same people as last year, only this year they'll be hounding us about when I'm gonna be getting you pregnant as opposed to when we've set the date. Do you want to deal with all that?"

"No, but… I mean, they are our best friends."

"We'll see them later. I'd rather ring in 2014 a…different way, if you know what I mean," he says impishly and leans over the center console to capture her lips. His fingers find the delicate ring on her left hand and twirls it as their mouths writhe together. When she pulls away, she smirks at him and winks one of her quicksilver eyes.

"Race you to the top?" she says, nodding her head to the stubby peaks of the Thunderbird Trail just ahead of them. He pockets their car keys and jogs after her, a thick cloud of Arizona dust kicked up by the passage of their running shoes.

They're halfway up the first trail when he has the presence of mind to look down. When he does, his feet freeze and his breath catches in his throat. The rattler is sunning itself on a rock several feet off the trail—not an uncommon sight in Phoenix by any stretch, but he swears this one is bigger than any other he's seen. He's not sure if size has anything to do with toxicity, but he doesn't want to be the one to find out. The early workout sweat on his brow turns ice cold as he surveys the snake and wills it not to turn and face him.

"Baby, what's the hold u—"

"Stop," he grunts quietly, still unable to tear his eyes off the creature. "Don't…disturb it…"

Katniss takes a pull off her water bottle and sighs. "Yeah, I saw him, too. He looks pretty tranquil. So long as you don't go any closer…"

The shake of his head is quick and accompanied by a deep bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows over the lump in his throat.

"Peeta, this is silly. It's just a rattlesnake."

"It's poisonous."

"Most snakes are around here. Remember, we moved to the desert?"

"I don't like them."

Her fingers twine with his and her hand tugs him along. "Leave him alone and he'll do the same for you. No one gets bitten on this trail unless they're provoking one of them."

His feet are frozen in place, and for some reason, a jet of white-hot pain shoots through his left calf. His jaw trembles, and he hopes she doesn't see—he hates admitting just how much snakes petrify him.

She tugs on his hand again. "Come on. Baby, it's okay, let's just go."

He finds he can move a scant moment later, and he practically pushes past her to get away from the creature. He runs the rest of his trail with his eyes trained downward, and when they stop for a rest at the top, he takes several long swallows of his water to wash down the bitter taste in his mouth.

When they jog back down and pass the same rock, the snake is gone, but Peeta's heart still pounds furiously.

* * *

_He'd promised her again and again that the ship was_ "_unsinkable."_ _Their passage to America was paid with their entire life's savings, and it had been a comfortable trip, for the most part. She was woozy the first few days, her large pregnant belly only part of why she was so green all day and night. They'd slept side by side in the warm, narrow bunk, his palm protectively pressed against where their baby kicked with indignation all night long. The kicking had stopped the same time that the engines went silent, and the entire ship lurched to a stop._

_Then the water had begun to __seep in._

_He'd fought with stewards and attendants to get them to the top deck, and despite the announcement that only First Class women and children would be allowed on the lifeboats at first, he'd pushed her up towards the front and gestured towards her distended stomach and shouted. And she'd been allowed on, even though she'd clung to his life jacket and shook her head, babbling in their mother-tongue that she'd wait with him until the men were allowed on, too._

_He'd practically had to lift her up and place her in the tiny boat before it was launched, kissing her fiercely and promising he'd see her when they__ made port in New York__. He didn't know why he said it, but he'd called after her that the baby was a girl, and they ought to name her Hope, as that's what she, his wife, had always given him._

_But his hope_ _had run out when the last of the __collapsible lifeboats_ _were launched, and the upper deck erupted in complete __pandemonium._ _Never before had he lied to his wife, and he wondered if this would be the sin that would cast him into Hell instead of assuring him a place in Heaven._

_He sat in a quiet, abandoned stairwell while the water rushed up and lapped at his feet, and thought of her as the air grew cold and his time ran out. He hoped he was right about the baby. He hoped she'd have her mother's __hair and __his eyes. He hoped right up until he took his last breath of air instead of a gulp of salty seawater._

* * *

Peeta fidgets nervously as they stand on the deck of the Channel ferry boat, watching as the White Cliffs of Dover begin to shrink in the distance. On a clear day, their tour guide had said, you can see all the way to Calais well before the ferry even reaches the halfway point—but there aren't many clear days in mid-March. He wants to go inside and drown his apprehension in a pint of the overpriced lager at the on-board bar, but Katniss insists on being out on the deck. They'd paid enough for this European tour, their delayed honeymoon, she'd argued—they ought to be present for every second of it.

She reads to him from her tour book as he clutches the railing; she doesn't notice his knuckles turning chalky as he looks down into the white-crested water churned up by the ferry's propellers. Other than the frothy waves, the Channel is dark and murky, and, he guesses, icy cold. Cold, dark water—it's a scene straight out of his fucking nightmares.

She finally senses his discomfort and turns in his arms to cup the sides of his face. Her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, especially in comparison to how icy and clammy his surely are.

"When we get to the hotel in Paris, I'm going to make love to you all...night...long," she whispers to him. "Maybe we'll have some sweeping, romantic view of all the lights to do it by. Maybe the window will be big enough you can take me from behind with my hands pinned up against it, so we can both see everything right up until we fall apart. How does that sound?"

Her husky, sensual words calm his racing mind for a moment as his trousers tighten in response to the conjured image. At that same moment, the boat dips in a patch of choppy water, and he sucks in a deep breath punctuated by a whimper.

She tugs on his hand, realizing that distracting him isn't going to work. "Come on… We can go inside. There's almost nothing to see out here anyway."

There's a thin veil of disappointment in her voice, but he trails along gratefully, blinking his eyes over and over again to banish the thoughts of frigid water lapping over his head and invading his lungs.

* * *

_The neighbor children were playing a game on the roof, and the little girl begged her mother to allow her to join them. Her little sister was down for a nap, and Mama always scolded her when she woke the baby while she was napping. The tiny apartment was scalding hot, and there was too little room to play that any speaking above a whisper would likely wake her sister. She didn't have to beg for long before Mama took her by the __ear and_ _forced her onto the fire escape, telling her not to come back inside the tenement until she was ready to be quiet for a change and take a nap._

_It was a little cooler on the roof, and she could see the construction of a skyscraper off in the distance. It would be the tallest building in America when it was completed, or so said the little boy in 16F with the shockingly blue eyes and messy yellow hair. Her cheeks always burned when he spoke to her, but she liked his accent—his family came from somewhere in Lapland, far away from her own war-torn country. Mama __always reminded her that America_ _was her home now._

"_We play follow de leader," the older boy in 17B with skin and eyes the same color as her own (even though he was from somewhere in the middle of Europe) told them with great authority. "What I do, you do."_

"_Wot makes you the leader?" the chubby little Irish girl in 12A protested._

"_I am ze oldest. You follow me, or you play anozer game," the boy insisted._

_The boy with the yellow hair looked at her after the Irish girl and the African boy both nodded their consent, and she felt her cheeks burn. He smiled wider, and she swore she saw a similar sort of heat on his own cheeks._

_The Leader did somersaults one minute, then kicked his heels together off to the side the next, and all the children scrambled to copy him. She could do a better somersault than the boy with the yellow hair, but he was more graceful when The Leader twirled in place ten times and then sauntered forward—she felt dizzy, but she wouldn't admit it to the other children. The Leader climbed on the cement ledge and found his balance before marching forward, the other children hot on his heels._

_She misjudged the brick to be set firm, but it wobbled and her ankle gave way. She tried to pitch to her right, to take the fall onto the roof, but she couldn't get the momentum. Suddenly she was flying through the air, and the little Irish girl screamed as the other children watched mutely in horror._

_The very last thing she saw before she blacked out several stories down, but with many stories still to go and nothing but hot asphalt to break her fall, was the little boy from Lapland's blue eyes as they misted with tears. Or so she thought. She couldn't be sure, since she knew she was about to die._

* * *

Peeta fights with Finnick over paying for the entrance fee, relenting only when Finnick insists that he'll hold his card for dinner later. In the backseat behind her husband, Katniss's knee jiggles up and down the closer and closer they get to the Skywalk. Finnick and Johanna had insisted on seeing the Grand Canyon during their May visit, partially to escape the Phoenix heat; but despite the promises of breathtaking, panoramic beauty, Katniss's stomach has been in knots all morning. The idea of walking on a few inches of glass suspended above such a dramatic drop fills her with the sort of terror little else can.

Peeta takes her hand as they approach and gives it a gentle squeeze. He's reminded her again and again that she doesn't have to take the Skywalk if she doesn't want to, but maybe, just maybe, a little bit of exposure therapy will help her cope with her height phobia. She remains unconvinced, but a few paces ahead, Finnick and Johanna babble excitedly and fiddle with their cameras. She wants to spend time with their friends, as they're only in the state for a short visit, and if she has to swallow her fear to do it, so be it.

Until she gets a good view of the drop. Looking out across the Canyon is one thing, but actually setting foot on the see-through bridge is too much. She barely takes two steps before whirling around and shaking her head firmly, patently ignoring her husband and friends calling after her. She hears Peeta explain her phobia as she escapes into the tourist building behind them, and neither Jo nor Finn question it.

Her heart stops pounding quite so hard after a few shaky breaths, and she can stand up straight again after putting her face between her knees for a few moments to quell her nausea. There's a viewing window inside, and she leans lightly against the reinforced glass, watching the three in the distance as Peeta snaps the other couple's picture. A pang of jealousy hits, and she swears at herself for giving into such an irrational fear and therefore missing out on such a moment with three of her very favorite people.

She feels the nausea, the shortness of breath, the panicked thumping of her heart all over again when she sees the three huddle together against one of the guardrails and lean backwards, Finnick's arm suspended above them, clearly trying to capture a shot of them all with their heads over the uncovered Canyon. In her mind's eye, the guardrail supporting them gives way completely, and they all stumble only once before plummeting into the chasm below. She can practically hear their screams and the sick, echoey thumps of their bodies as they hit near a mile below, knocking the air and life out of each of them. Hot tears prick her eyes, and she shakes like a leaf even after she turns around to avert her gaze.

"You alright, hon?" a petite, flame-haired woman in a park ranger uniform asks, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Katniss shakes her head from side to side, trying to banish the image from her mind, but she just can't. The ranger brandishes a bottle of water from nowhere, and crouches down next to her.

"I'm a-afraid of h-heights," Katniss stammers after gulping down the cold fluid.

"I figured that was why you were on solid ground," the ranger says, a slight ring of bemusement in her voice.

"My h-husband and our f-friends are s-screwing ar-round, and it…"

"Ah. You've got it good, huh? Which ones are they? I'll let you know when it's alright to look."

Katniss spits out a brief description of Peeta, and the ranger clicks her tongue in her mouth. "Looks like they're heading this way. Look, with a phobia as severe as yours, you're probably better off skipping the Walk and sticking with the parts of the Canyon that are well blocked off. And there's some trails that are less steep if you guys will be doing…"

"Katniss? Are you…?"

She launches herself into her husband's arms as soon as the three re-enter the building, but only for a moment before pulling away and shaking him. "You scared me to death! All of you! I thought you were…"

"Baby, we were just taking a picture! We're fine, all of us, and we were fine the whole time."

She's shaking when she pulls him in again, her anger mingling with her fear and battling for dominance. She hates admitting just how deep this runs, but she hates heights even more.

* * *

_It's a mistake! he wanted to shout. He's no murderer! These men in the cells next to him, these monsters who wolf-whistled the nuns when they came by to offer counsel, who swore and spit at the priests and the guards: they were the __murderers. __They were the ones who ought to be put to death for their crimes. He hadn't done anything wrong. The girl with the curly blonde hair had been mortally wounded in the stomach when he happened upon her, and he had just tried to help. He had tried to staunch the blood as it flowed from her abdomen, leeching the life's breath out of her. He had been frantic, but it was too late. He had sat in shock at her side after she died, her blood staining his shirt a sickly crimson, and that's how he'd been found. He was innocent. But no one believed him._

_He'd appealed, but he was too poor to repeat the process enough times to win, and the mercy of the state had run out—he was due to hang in the morning, and he'd sobbed into the lap of the priest who'd come to offer him last rites. He maintained his innocence until he was marched to the gallows. Snow fell upon the grey, crowded square, but he barely felt cold. He wondered if he'd piss or shit his pants when the noose tightened and cut off his air supply. Or maybe he'd be lucky, and his neck would snap. At least then it'd be quick._

_He declined the hood. A burly man who'd been his cellmate until his own execution last month had said that real men always declined the hangman's hood. Better to look the crowd in their eyes as they cast their judgement, better to leave this world seeing than blind. Heaven would be full of big tits and free-flowing beer, the man had said. He heard second-hand that the same man cried for his mother before the trap door bottomed out under his feet._

_He was surprisingly calm as the charges were read against him, looking out into the crowd despite not actually seeing anything. His heart thumped within his chest at a speed no quicker than it ever did, apparently completely unaware it would cease __to function __in just a matter of minutes. The rope was scratchy on his throat, the handcuffs that pinned his wrists to his lower back icy and slick from the freezing wind. But still, he stood stoic, accepting his fate at long last after months and months of fighting it._

_Just before the creak of the trap door filled his ears and he plummeted, he caught sight of something—a pair of grey eyes, sharper and more intense than any he'd seen in his life. He clung to the image as his body twitched and jerked, and his life ended._

* * *

The lingering heat of the end of another oppressive Phoenix summer has made her crave his touch nigh constantly. When he returns home from work, Katniss barely gives him a moment before she leaps into his arms and begins to kiss his neck feverishly. He tosses her over his shoulder and hauls her to the bedroom, dropping her quickly on the mattress before crawling over her and claiming her mouth with his own. Their tongues wrest for control until she gains enough leverage to pin him on his back and throw her leg over his hips. She only just manages to pull his cock free of the black slacks before she thrusts down upon him and begins to ride him with abandon.

The springs squeak underneath them, and the more he pushes his hips to bury himself further inside her, the more fervently she bounces. He pulls her forward to hiss and groan into her mouth, and she places her hands on either side of his head for leverage as she thrusts down, her walls encasing his turgid shaft, which twitches every time it bumps against her cervix. She thrusts so wildly, so engrossed by the feeling of every inch of him filling her and driving her wild that she doesn't realize she's caught his cornflower-blue tie under her palm and is pinning it into the mattress until his eyes flash in desperation, and he practically tosses her off him with both of his hands.

When she sits up enough to crawl back to him, he's huddled in on himself, yanking the tie off and balling it to throw across the room before closing his fingers over his throat and sucking in shallow breaths through his nostrils. She reaches out for him tenderly and feels hurt when he shrinks away.

"You need to…be careful…" he moans painfully, not daring to meet her eyes.

"Baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you…"

They sit in punctured, awkward silence until his breathing calms and his hands stretch out for her. She curls against his chest and flutter-kisses the sinewy cords of muscle under the skin of his throat and repeats the words over and over.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to, I'm sorry…"

He accepts her apology a few minutes later and tears into her again, but he's on top, and has her hands pinned up above her head until he comes with a shout. He kisses her lazily, all traces of his earlier panic gone, but when he drifts off afterwards, she can't help but map his neck with her fingertips and wonder why.

* * *

_She killed the engine of her Papa's car and swung her legs out before pushing the door closed with her hip. The thin band of gold on her left finger glinted in the sunlight—she couldn't wait to tell her mama and little sister that she'd be a married woman soon. She wondered if her sister would cry. Maybe Mama would hand-sew her dress._

_They usually don't leave the front door open for her, but she breezed in without thinking __twice, __and called up the stairs for the other women of the house. Only silence greeted her in return, which was strange, considering that they both ought to have been home. She had no way of knowing yet that they were both upstairs, but would never hear anything ever again. _

_One of them had upset the table they drop the mail on by the door, or so she supposed, and she bent automatically to pick it up and tidy everything on it. He was due to come by with his family so they could all celebrate together, and she wanted to make a good impression for her future in-laws. She would have to find a new vase for the roses her sister trimmed off the bush out front, since the one at her feet was cracked beyond repair._

_When she straightened to move into the kitchen, all she saw were angry, snake-like eyes boring into __her from under_ _a black mask that hid the rest of his face. She opened her mouth to scream, but it was lost in the loud _pop! _of the bullet that shattered her breast and spilled her blood._

* * *

They'd bickered at dinner, which they hardly ever do in front of their friends, and she'd been so frustrated with Peeta that she got in her car and headed home without him. _Let Gale and Delly drive him home after he gets a chance to cool off a little, and let her gather her wits. _She hates when they fight, especially over something stupid and trivial. She feels like not celebrating Christmas at home is a no-brainer, especially when the alternative is to fly halfway across the country to go to his parent's house. Her mother-in-law hates her and they both know it, even though Peeta swears Mrs. Mellark will get over it.

The car idles in the driveway as she reaches up to hit the button on the garage door opener on her visor. Her fingers come up empty, and she realizes he must have moved it last time he drove her car. She swears under her breath and fumbles about in the center console for the device. Her hand closes around it and she's about to press down when she sees it out of the corner of her eye—a shadow, some sort of movement in the window next to the garage. She'd probably miss it if it weren't for the icicle lights he'd strung in every window. Her blood turns to ice, her saliva into ash in her mouth, and she trembles as she throws the car into reverse.

No _way_ could Peeta have made it home before her.

Her tires peel when she throws the car back into first gear and speeds away, and she blindly fumbles for her phone to call the police. She almost runs headlong into Gale and Delly's car when it turns the corner into the townhome complex, and they're both forced to stop to avoid their bumpers from denting in.

"Someone's in my house!" she screams into to the phone right as Gale, Delly, and Peeta get out of the car and walk towards her window, concern heavy in their expressions. "Someone is in my house, someone's broken into my house!" She'll wonder later if she's slightly deafened the poor police dispatcher with her incessant shrieking.

She and Peeta cling to one another a short while later when they stand outside their home, police lights beaming off the stucco walls of the neighboring townhouses as the officers conduct their search. One of the officers pulls them aside to brace them for what sort of disruption they'll face when they go inside now that the coast is clear, but Katniss shakes her head quickly against her husband's chest.

"No, we're not going in there. We're moving. We're moving right now."

"I'm sure the landlord will let us break our lease, all things considered, baby, but we need to go in and see what they…"

"No!" she cries. "No, we're not going in there, it isn't safe!"

"Katniss…"

"You guys can stay with us tonight. It'll seem less scary in the morning, I'm sure," Delly offers, and Gale nods in agreement.

Katniss highly doubts that. She's _never_ going in that house again. The landlord can send them their framed wedding photos and whatever other knick-knacks she decides she wants. But everything is tainted now, and nothing about that place is safe. Not for her, not for them—not anymore.

She somehow manages to drift off to sleep in Peeta's arms, well after Gale assures her he's set the burglar alarm and double checked every door and window to ensure they're all locked. Peeta's arms, of course, are the only place she (and the little secret she's carrying, the reason why she'd been so snippy at dinner) is secure. She dreams of another home, another place her family can live in peace and safety. The dream is so pleasant she doesn't want to wake up.

Peeta and Gale pack up the burgled townhome, and she picks out a rental house with a pool and a yard and a state-of-the-art security system in a gated community. They move in just a few days before Christmas, and are all settled well before she breaks the news to Peeta. To say he's overjoyed is an understatement.

They sleep the final nights of 2014 away with his hands always cupping and protecting her belly, and she starts to believe that the world can be good again…so long as the doors stay locked.

* * *

**A/N: Despite December being an absolutely insane writing month for me, I somehow managed to produce this little thing - sometimes fic bunnies just will not leave you alone! Despite it's slightly morbid nature, I hope you enjoyed this little thing as much as I enjoyed writing it. Huge, huge, huge thanks to _sohypothetically _and _Court81981 _for their beta-prowess.**

**And now back to my regularly scheduled WiPs - thank you for reading! I truly value your feedback, so please don't be strangers - I'm baronesskika dot tumblr dot com.**


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